


In Flight

by OhLookAFlyingMintBunny



Category: GOT7
Genre: Flight Log: Turbulence, Gen, I Don't Even Know, pretty much everyone except jinyoung is implied to be dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhLookAFlyingMintBunny/pseuds/OhLookAFlyingMintBunny
Summary: He closes his eyes and opens them again, unsure of which world to belong in, unwilling to choose.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im just really shook by this whole thing tbh

He opens his eyes to the sight of a wall, to the sounds of his friends screaming, to the feeling of being suspended midair. His earbuds are in his ears, probably playing whatever's in his endless playlist, and he smiles as he sees the pillow fight going on. A wave of relief washes over him and he settles deeper into his chair, nodding and smiling at the flight attendant next to him.    
She smiles back at him.    
The plane shudders. Then everything starts to shake, and he opens his mouth, starts rising out of his seat to call the others to their seats-   
"Please sit down, sir," the flight attendant says. "This is my duty."   
Wordlessly, he sinks back into his seat. A part of him screams to stand up again, to turn around and pull some people into their seats, at least-    
The lights shut off. The flight attendant pushes him back into the seat still, and he faintly realizes that there is no music playing in his earbuds. She's pressing an oxygen mask to his face and pressing him back into the seat and not letting go.    
He closes his eyes from the sight of darkness, from the screams of his friends, and from the unmistakable feeling of weightlessness that comes from free fall.    
  
  
  
He opens his eyes to blazing brightness, to empty silence, to nothing but the hard ground beneath him and the oxygen masked pressed to his face. His earbuds dangle from one ear. He turns his head and sees nothing but a crumpled metal shell, he turns the other way and sees a video camera lying on the ground, its last clips still playing in an endless loop.    
A part of him screams again, tells him to sit up, to crawl over and retrieve that camera, to stand up and walk to that overturned car, if only to grasp the situation-   
But the medic behind him grasps him firmly and presses him on the ground, holds the oxygen mask over his face and does not let go.    
He closes his eyes from the video camera, from the crackling of the fire and the unzipping and zipping of bags, from the unmistakable feeling of realizing that everything's been lost.    
  
  
  
He opens his eyes to the blue, bright sky, to the screaming of the wind, to nothingness around him. He faintly realizes he's standing on a roof, and looks down. The city streets lie so many meters down, and as he surveys the world around him, he feels as if he is flying, as if he is standing in the air and gazing at everything from a permanently new view. Around him, a flock of birds suddenly rise from below, and as the cloud of feathery white passes he can see his friends laughing at him, soaring higher into the sky but always coming back, flying away and returning, a game of pushing and pulling that he does not know how to play. He looks back up at the sky, and he almost feels like he could fly- that he could do it. The wind whipping around him - surely that is what flying is like. He can barely feel the concrete under his feet. All he needs to do is step into the air-    
He soars through the sky, his friends flying down at him, but they rise further into the sky and he is left behind to fall.    
But he believes. He's seen baby birds learning to fly; they fall out of the nest and suddenly, miraculously, they are weightless, flapping tiny wings and moving towards the endless blue. He can almost feel himself rising, rising up the the blue of the sky. He closes his eyes from the glaring brightness of the sun, from the joyous calls of his friends, from the unmistakable feeling of being weightless once more.    
  
  
  
He opens his eyes again to a wall, to the slow, rhythmic beeping of a machine, to the unmistakable feeling of lying immobilized on a bed. He wakes to clean white sheets and a white ceiling and a framed portrait of a blue forest on the wall before him and panels of blue sky above him. There is silence. He is not flying anymore. He cannot hear his friends anymore. His friends have all flown away, up, up, up into the blue sky and white clouds like baby birds leaving their nest and he is left behind.    
A part of him screams at him at to get up again for the third time, to seek answers, to seek peace, anything, and he tries this time, tries so hard, but a nurse is at his side again, pressing him down into the bed and telling him not to move. He tries harder, telling her what he has to do but she only shakes her head and holds him down, calling for others and pressing an oxygen mask to his face.    
  
  
  
He closes his eyes from the flashing ceiling tiles of the hallway, from the frantic cries of the nurses, from the unmistakable feeling of tears rolling down his cheeks.   
  



End file.
